I Want to Swim With You
by Kaz1167
Summary: Mako has always been a fan of water and has always been best friends with Korra. Some things simply never change, and he's okay with that. He comes to realize, though, that maybe some changes are good. (Makorra Free! AU)
1. It's Meaningless Without You

anon prompt: Definitely that Free! AU :D (MakoHaru esc? ^^)

I wrote this in response to the anon request submitted on my tumblr (elementalavatars) and really hope I did this AU justice. I kind of struggled to find the right level of balance between the Mako/Korra dynamic and Makoto/Haru dynamic since they're _so_ different. I tried to integrate them in a way that still felt like Makorra but also had MakoHaru hints to it. Hopefully it came across alright! And if you aren't into _Free!_, it basically just reads as a High School AU, haha.

* * *

Mako traces his hands over the water in his tub, vaguely amused by the simple way the water ripples under his fingers. He slips deeper into the tub's warm embrace, the water distorting the image of his black and gold jammers, letting the water cover his chin and nose.

Five more minutes. Five more minutes of blissful peace and quiet, just soaking in the comforting warmth of his tub, feeling the water's gentle hold on him—

"Mako, I'm coming in!" Her voice breaks through his peace and quiet as she slides the bathroom door open mid-sentence. He must have miscounted his five minutes (that, or she's early, which is equally unfortunate).

"Jesus, Korra, what if I was naked." It's not that she doesn't frequently burst in on him (she does), but he's genuinely surprised by her presence as usually he can hear her walking around downstairs or trying to wrench his front door open. He slides up, fully sitting in his tub, as she stalks over, one hand clutching a fluffy towel, the other outstretched and waiting for his own to slide into place. He glances at the smaller hand above him before sighing and letting her half-pull him up and out of the tub. She holds onto his hand for a few seconds too long, before a flush creeps across her cheeks and she lets go, rubbing her hand against the back of her neck. Her following laugh and smile come across as slightly strained. He notices (_he hates it_), but doesn't comment before she continues.

"Calm down, Mr. Modesty, it's not like I haven't seen it all before." She laughs again, the sound still strained, as she wraps the towel around his head. He supposes she's right; they've been best friends since they were little (he can't even remember exactly how they met) and swimming together at the same local club for almost as long, leading to a few awkward locker-room mix ups or accidental morning bath invasions (which was part of _why_ Mako had started wearing his jammers in the bath in the first place), but still. He wasn't the awkward, gawky boy with a voice that constantly broke itself in half and she wasn't the little girl who was constantly missing a tooth and a little pudgy with a round face. (No, she's made of lean, defined muscles after years of swimming backstroke, and powerful legs that send her bursting from the wall when she kicks; she practically pulses with energy, with blue eyes like the water he loves so much, skin that looks like it's still warm from the sun, and curves that frequently haunt his dreams because it's impossible _not_ to notice how she's changed.)

"Right, because walking in on me naked now is absolutely no different than when I was seven." He mumbles under the towel as she leaves him in the bathroom. He can hear her making her way around his kitchen, sighing at the thought of her attempting to make him food again. She may be Republic City's best backstroke swimmer, but she's a terrible cook.

"We're going to be late if you don't hurry!"

"Since when do you care about being on time to school?"

"Just get dressed, water boy."

He smiles at the childhood nickname despite himself (so what if he went through a kind of obsessive stage, rambling about _feeling_ the water and what not, everyone's embarrassing as a kid) and enters his room

:::~:::~:::~:::~:::~:::~:::~:::~:::~:::

Lunch on the roof has become their swim club's "thing," so to speak. Asami and Bolin banter back and forth over the upcoming race, Iroh and Jinora discuss their English exam from last period, while Mako picks at his lunch, focus lost. Korra had said she'd only be a minute, but she's been gone nearly ten at this point.

"Do you guys know where Korra went?"

"I think I heard her say something about the art room? You could check there." Asami's voice is sweetly attentive, despite her focus on batting Bolin's hands away from her bento. She smiles up at him briefly, chopsticks in hand as she readjusts the red glasses slipping down the bridge of her nose.

He stands without a word, brushing off his uniform pants before he crosses to the roof door, pulling it closed behind him quietly. He shouldn't be this bothered by her temporary disappearance, but… Something has been slowly shifting between them, something he knows they both recognize, and it's driving them apart when it should…it should…

He leans against the door momentarily, head falling back as he sighs. _It should be bringing them together_, the little voice in his head nags. Most of the time, their relationship is exactly as it should be—Korra pesters him, he gripes at her, but they are always, without question, by the other's side. Recently, though, they've been bickering more than normal, and there's a straining, aching element overriding their natural push-and-pull dynamic.

He makes his way down the halls of their school, rounding the corner when he catches her voice followed by another's. The door to the art room is half open, allowing her conversation with whoever she's with to escape into the quiet hall.

"—you're an amazing swimmer and you're gorgeous. We'd make a great couple."

Mako swallows the lump that has appeared without warning in his throat. Oh. This is a confession.

_Oh shit._

"I'm really flattered, Hasook, but I'm just not interested. Like I said before, I don't feel that way about you."

"Come on, just give me a chance, I'm a nice guy—"

"I told you I'm not interested."

The pressure in his chest disappears. He's glad she isn't interested in a self-obsessed jerk like Hasook. She deserves someone who appreciates her talent and looks, sure, but sees her as more than just Republic City High's gorgeous backstroke swimmer. Someone who recognizes how strong she is, how she loves to throw herself headfirst into everything, and knows when to stand back and watch her, when to follow her lead, and when to tug at her arm and stop her from doing something completely stupid. Someone who gets that she's better at videogames than most guys and can lose to her with at least a little grace even when she gloats about her millionth Mario Kart win. Someone who loves her unwavering fearlessness and confidence, but will pull her close in the middle of the night when she wakes from nightmares of faceless hands pulling her under the water she loves, paralyzing her with their touch, just like he does when she thrashes about on the futon next to his bed, clutching at his battered undershirt when he slides under thin sheets beside her.

The little voice whispers in his ear again—_If you feel that strongly about who she's with, why aren't _**_you _**_with her?—_and his justification for his inaction (_she's my best friend, what if we don't work, what if we ruin everything between us, I don't want to lose her_) feels weaker each time he runs through it in his head.

_Why haven't you told her you love her?_

He hears footsteps in the room and the half-open door pulls open fully before he can scramble away and pretend he wasn't listening in on their conversation. Korra's steady, fast-paced walk pauses when she sees him, her frozen gaze softening slightly but not by much. There it is again, that _something_ pushing them apart.

"What are you doing here, Mako?"

Wait, why is she angry with him? He didn't do anything; it was Hasook who was badgering her.

"Hey, why are you mad at me?"

"Mako, not now."

"I know Hasook's a jerk, but don't take it out on me."

The scowl on her face deepens before she pushes forward, ignoring his presence, letting him follow behind as the hall fills with students returning to their classes.

"Korra—"

He rushes forward, tugs on her shoulder, but she wrenches away, annoyance distorting her features.

"Mako, go away. I've already dealt with one oblivious idiot today and don't feel like dealing with another, so you're just going to have to wait until tomorrow for your turn."

His hand drops from her shoulder and he stands dumbstruck in the entryway to their classroom, his classmates edging around him in annoyance. He watches her back as she crosses the classroom, wolftails swinging angrily as she collapses into her seat with a heavy sigh.

_It should be bringing them together_, the little voice in his head nags again as he enters his classroom and takes his seat behind her.

Right.

:::~:::~:::~:::~:::~:::~:::~:::~:::~:::

Diving into the freshly filled pool is more than just a relief, it is pure heaven after the day he's had.

After the confession incident, Korra had ignored him for the rest of the day, hardly looking at him as she handed the stack of papers back to him, dismissing his attempts at distracting her when he poked at the back of her neck with the eraser of his pencil.

She'd brushed past him on her way to practice, quickly finding Asami in the hall and pushing forward. By the time he'd reached the men's locker room and changed, she was already swimming laps in the pool, Jinora timing her carefully.

So when he dives into the lane next to hers, he tries to forget about their fight, let the water ease the day's stress out of him as he pushes forward, his front crawl perfectly executed. Usually swimming would help him unwind, but his mind won't stop running through the mess of feelings he's been avoiding and he's overly conscious of every time he and Korra pass each other in the pool. By the end of practice, he feels exhausted and winded instead of re-energized like he usually does, lazily pushing through the water which feels more and more like molasses with each stroke.

He hears Bolin shout out to him—something about getting dinner with Iroh and Jinora—and Asami grumbles about cram school, waving gently as she turns to leave. Korra's still going, still swimming, still _avoiding_ him; it's a good thing he's as stubborn as she is, pulling himself out of the pool to sit at the edge, waiting for her next lap to end.

He loves watching her swim, the way she turns in the water at the end of the lane, the way she reaches out and cuts through the water with her powerful stroke. For a second, he forgets that she's mad at him for reasons he's only starting to understand—he hasn't really been _oblivious,_ like she said earlier, he just hasn't acted on any of the hints she dropped in the past. She'd been sending him clues for months as to the extent of her feelings and he'd noticed, noticed the lingering stares and the moments when she held on to his hand a little too long, but he had been just as reluctant to come clean about the change in their relationship as she had, letting himself dwell in a state of complacency instead of acting.

Which, really, is just _stupid_, given that he feels the same way about her. He can't count the number of times he'd thought about kissing that perfect mouth that drives him insane with teasing words or pulling her close on normal occasions, not just when she has a nightmare.

She comes to a stop at the end of the lane, clearly attempting to avoid his gaze. She pants at the end of her lap, holding herself in place in the pool as she rests one elbow and forearm on the pool's edge, facing his legs, staring intently at the golden line running down his thigh.

"Your times were horrible today."

She's right, his times had been horrible, but he couldn't care less about them at the moment.

"I'm an idiot," he says, and her eyes catch his accidentally before she looks away again, opting to watch the butterfly flitting above the water's surface a few feet away from them. He wants to say more, but he isn't exactly good with words, never has been, and he finds them getting stuck in his throat as her eyes reflect the waning sun playing off the brilliant blue of the pool.

"That's true." She still won't look at him.

"I haven't been—I mean, I wasn't intentionally—look, you drive me crazy, Korra. You make dumb decisions, rush headfirst into everything, we're constantly fighting, and you can't cook to save your life, but you're my best friend and I can't imagine not having you in my life."

She smiles slightly at that, but her eyes still avoid his. She bites at her lip and he isn't quite sure how to interpret the look of careful consideration that crosses her face.

"What does that mean, though? You're my best friend too, but is that it for us? Just friends?"

"I don't want it to be. Without you, it's…well…everything's meaningless without you."

She meets his gaze then, her blue eyes wide, a beaming smile making its way across her face.

"You're so embarrassing sometimes."

He smiles back, standing, and holds out his hand to pull her from the pool. She takes it without hesitation, hoisting herself out of the pool with his help. Her hand is cool against his and he doesn't let go right away.

"So are we—"

Her lips are cool against his and taste slightly of chlorine when they cut off his words. He wraps his arms around her in return, wondering why he didn't just kiss her the second he realized he wanted to be more than best friends, because as much as he loves the feeling of water around him when sits in his tub or swims in the pool, nothing compares to when her arms wrap around his neck and she deepens their kiss, dripping water on his skin.


	2. The Midnight Pool Rendezvous

A few people suggested I continue the Makorra Free! AU and then someone suggested I write a pool or locker room sex scene, so here it is: the Makorra midnight pool rendezvous… I guess water inspires me? I'm becoming Haru, send help.

Hopefully the rating change from T to M isn't a problem for anyone, but I decided to post this fic as a chapter within this story rather than as a completely independent fic. If I decide to write more for this AU, I'll continue to post chapters here, but they (most likely) won't be sequential or sticking to a liner plot in any way. Feel free to send me prompts (either on FF or my tumblr which is elementalavatars) if you want to see something in particular. :)

* * *

His heart pounds in his chest, knuckles white from clenching the metal railing preventing their entire swim team from tumbling from their place in the stands. She's positioned to start, the crowd quieting, until the buzzer rings and she pushes off of the wall, back arching with her entrance, the cheers coming back at double the volume. Bolin's booming voice as he leads their team's chant would normally be enough to give him a headache, but he's barely aware of it, his own voice caught in his throat, his eyes glued to the blur in the water.

She'd done it again; she'd made it to nationals for the second year in a row. Mako and Asami had made it as well, both placing in the top six for the 100m freestyle and 100m butterfly respectively, but Korra had a shot to win, just as she had done the previous year. Her times had improved and she'd blown away the competition during regionals, but nothing was guaranteed until she was actually racing in the pool at nationals.

And now she was, lean body gliding through the pool with trained ease.

And she was winning.

She nears the end of the pool and turns, her strong legs propelling her past her competitors, increasing her lead. With twenty-five meters to go, she's at least half a body's length ahead of the next strongest swimmer.

_She's going to win._

A few more strokes and he's grabbing Bolin's hand next to his on the railing. His voice finally breaks through the lump in his throat.

"**Go Korra!**"

Her hand touches the wall, followed by an array of others, but the number "1" flashes by her name in little green lights as she pulls off her goggles and swim cap. The smile on her face is everything he loves about her, wide and bursting at the seams with energy, and she cheers, pumping her arm in the air as the crowd breaks into an uproar. Even for the anonymous crowd, it's exciting—it's the first time someone's won the 100m backstroke two years in a row.

Bolin crushes him in a hug before bursting into tears and pulling Coach Tenzin into the most awkward hug-like thing Mako's ever seen, Jinora's practically bouncing (which is rare since she's usually the calmest of their bunch), and Iroh has Asami wrapped in an embrace that looks a little more affectionate than the one armed hug he'd just given Jinora. Mako's attention centers back in on Korra as she climbs out of the pool, accepting the congratulations from those on the pool deck with only minimal focus as she searches for their team's spot in the stands.

Her gaze seems to pass somewhere overhead before she spots him, and seconds after their eyes lock he's weaving through the crowd, deftly edging through people as he takes the quickest route from the stands to the locker rooms to the pool deck. He's only a few steps out of the locker room when she barrels at his chest, throwing her arms around his neck in a hug that'll soak his Republic City High jacket.

"Mako, I did it! Two years in a row!"

He hugs her tighter, spinning her around once before crushing her to him, and he can't help the laugh that spills from his lips.

"I knew you could! I'm so proud of you, Korra! You were amazing!"

"Thank you, and I love you, and, I just, I can't believe I did it!" She draws back, pressing her lips against his before he has time to reply, to tell her just how much he loves her, but he thinks she knows when he kisses her back with double the intensity.

**...**

They leave Asami's celebratory party a bit earlier than the others, enjoying the warm night as they slowly make their way to Korra's house. Side by side, Mako listens to Korra ramble about the race and the day's events, adding a nod or affirmative comment here or there, before taking her hand in his. While they had started dating three months ago, the heart of their relationship had hardly changed: Korra still pulled Mako from his tub every morning, they still bickered over dumb things, and they still found time for their friends, school work, swimming, but other things had changed, changed in ways he'd only let himself guiltily imagine once or twice in the tub after awaking from a particularly potent dream.

Being close to her wasn't a new thing, but with the removal of the "just friends" barrier between them, the need for more than just a few moments of holding her hand when he got out of the bath or letting her rest against his shoulder when she was tired at lunch was practically insatiable. The convenience of Korra's otherwise empty house—something she used to bemoan, hating the utter silence when her parents were frequently out of town for her father's position as a diplomat—was now a blessing, allowing them privacy from Bolin and ample opportunities for them to explore each other in a mess of tangled embraces. They were both passionate about the things they loved, and they _loved_ each other, the first kiss she gave him creating an all-consuming addiction to each other's touch. That first kiss turned into warm lips on his shoulders, her neck, his chest, her collarbone, his abs. Kisses led to hands pushing off her uniform shirt and fumbling with her bra when she climbed into his lap and straddled him, sliding her hand into his pants and laughing at finding jammers in place of boxers. Fumbling became knowing, knowing where she liked to be kissed, how she liked to be touched, and just how he liked to be kissed and touched in return.

She tugs on his hand, snapping him out of his daze, staring up at him expectantly.

"Uh, can you say that again?" She sighs and rolls her eyes at him, a little smile pulling at her lips.

"_I said_, we should go swimming."

"Okay, we can go tomorrow." Her little smile becomes a teasing grin and he knows whatever she's about to suggest is going to be trouble.

"I was thinking more along the lines of 'right now,' in a _private_ pool we just _happen_ to have a key to, _Captain_."

"We're not breaking into the school pool to…No, Korra."

"Are you sure about that?" She pulls his hand in the direction of their high school and he lets his feet follow her path against his better judgment.

**...**

She glances over her shoulder from her place at the starting block, the smirk playing at her mouth too tempting to ignore, before she dives in gracefully, the once calm water breaking into waves when it allows her entrance. When she surfaces, she pushes the hair clinging to her face back and watches him closely, swimming to the edge where he stands.

"What's taking you so long? Get in here."

"Korra, if we get caught—"

"We won't. Now strip down to the jammers I _know _you're wearing and jump in." She laughs while she gently pushes off the wall, slipping into a lazy version of her backstroke. He rolls his eyes at her comment, refusing to concede that _yes, he's wearing his jammers under his shorts_, as he pulls off his shirt and shorts, tossing them on top of the pile where her tank top and jean shorts lie. He's about to jump in when he glances at her and finds himself frozen in place, awestruck by how beautiful she looks gliding through the water before slowing to just float on her back, eyes closed and a content smile on her face as the inky sky and silver sliver of moon reflect off of the water. He's still getting used to letting himself look at her, letting his gaze trail down from her face to the navy bra she's opted to swim in to the flat plane of her stomach to the muscled thighs he loves having wrapped around his waist.

"You know I can feel when you're watching me, right? It's something I've picked up on after years of being your best friend."

He isn't sure if she keeps talking after that; he dives in, sliding through the water and swimming to her side at the shallow end of the pool.

She opens her eyes when he pops up and out of the water, running his hand through his wet hair. He sees the way her eyes trail over his neck and down his chest, and he wonders if she's following the drops of water slipping down his skin. The idea sends a rush of warmth through his chest and his stomach before settling lower, and he's quickly made aware of the slight increase in pressure in his tight jammers.

"Do you think I _can't_ tell when you're staring at me? Come on, Korra, whatever our little 'psychic' bond is, it goes both ways." She flushes slightly at that, like she's surprised to hear that she hadn't always been as successful at hiding her feelings as she had thought.

_She's so beautiful. _

He drags his hand up from her wrist, fingertips drawing over her forearm and biceps, trailing over her shoulder and collar bone, before making their way down her other arm. He feels her gaze fixated on him like a heavy but pleasant weight pressing on his chest, forcing his heartbeat into a frenzied thump. He starts up her arm again, detouring when he reaches the start of her collarbone, sliding down her side, his palm just grazing the top of her breast when she inhales sharply, before trailing down her rib-cage, his palm flattening out over the slick skin of her stomach. She shivers under his touch and he swallows hard when he sees the goosebumps covering her skin before repeating the process on her other side.

This time his hand crosses the same path as before—her arm to her collarbone, then just over her breast, before settling on her stomach—but he slowly drags two fingers further down, dipping when they move over her belly button and to the edge of her underwear, just barely crossing over the wet fabric before languidly retracing his steps up her body.

She's so _damn_ beautiful and he's so _hard_.

He barely has time to process the change from her floating position in the pool to her wrapping her legs and arms around him, pressing herself tight against him when her lips meet his. She shifts in his embrace and he audibly moans when she slides up against his erection. Her mouth is hot against his, their kisses messy with too much tongue, but neither of them cares, too desperate for _more_ of each other.

The water sloshes around them with their almost frantic movements, lapping over them in a gentle touch of its own when he slides the straps of her bra off of her shoulders, pulling down the cups, sucking in a breath when she's fully exposed. He adjusts her against him, pulling her legs up higher around his waist so he's level with her chest, and his mouth meets the cool skin of her breast, tongue swirling around her pert nipple. Her hands clutch at his wet hair, her head back as she gasps and moans loudly when he bites down on the bud gently, lavishing it with attention, before he moves to the other one, letting his palm replace his mouth.

"_Ah_, Mako, more." This was his favorite part of exploring this new side of their relationship; learning what made her moan, what made her curse at him in breathy tones, what made her wet, what made her come. Seeing her unravel before him (and feeling himself unravel because of her) was better than any wet dream he'd ever had.

A moment of realization hits him, pulling him out of the heat caused by their kisses and her body flush against his when he remembers that they're in public, in the middle of the night, trespassing on school property, moments away from defiling their swim club's pool.

"Korra," he says, breaking their kiss before her lips are pressing against his again, muffling his words. "Korra, we're not having sex in the pool."

He can feel the smile pulling at her cheeks when she drops her arms from his shoulders, letting her legs hold her against him, dragging her hands over his chest, mouthing at the sensitive spot between his collarbone and neck that has a surprising powerful influence on his lower body.

"_Korra_." Did he say that with enough conviction? He isn't sure—it's become increasingly difficult to think as she palms him through his suit, her lips kissing and sucking at his neck.

"_Fine_, fine, locker room?"

He wants to say "we should wait until we get to your house," but instead he pulls her head down to his, kissing her again, and nodding against her lips. He breaks away first, swimming to the pool's ladder with Korra close behind him. His feet hit the cement ledge of the pool and he watches as he pulls her from the water, staring at the way the drops run down her chest and legs, dripping off of her in a way that's sure to stay in his mind for days, and suddenly the locker room feels very, very far away. The pause at the pile of clothing as he grabs a condom feels painfully long. He'd practically be pulling her to the locker room if her pace wasn't just as hurried as his.

The locker room is bathed in just enough moonlight from the window's high on the wall and carry over from the streetlamps outside for them to avoid turning on the lights, which is good since Mako isn't sure he'd be able to remember where the light switch is right now, when Korra pushes him against the locker room door, kissing him hard before trailing her hands down his chest to his jammers.

"I've always wanted to do this in here. Thought about it _a lot_." He smiles against her neck, letting something caught between a laugh and groan escape him at her words. Maybe it's just something about them and their weird swimming obsession, but _shit_, this was one of his go-to fantasies for when he woke up hard and couldn't shake the dream that had left him that way. She doesn't bother with teasing, opting to just pull down his jammers. He sucks in a sharp breath of air when she frees him and his dick slaps against his stomach. Honestly, in any other moment he'd be embarrassed by how hard he is, but when her mouth slips over him, sucking and swirling her tongue over the head before she bobs down, any thoughts that aren't purely _Korra_ quickly evaporate. She keeps going, up and down, _up and down_, _upanddown_—

"Ah, Korra, stop or I'll—" She releases him with a wet popping sound, still slowly pumping him with her hand when she kisses up his hipbone, his abs, his chest, and finally his lips. He hears the foil packet rip, feels her hands rolling the condom over him, as his own hands attempt to undo the wet bra that's just barely holding itself in place. He struggles momentarily before she reaches back with one hand to swiftly undo the clasp, smiling and softly laughing against his mouth.

"How are you still so bad with bras?"

"Stop laughing at me, it's just because I can't see the back of it." His pout is grossly apparent in his voice and he wonders why he sounds so damn whiny when he says it like that (but he knows it probably has something to do with the way she's still running her hand up and down his dick, languid strokes that make him wonder how the hell he's going to hold out when he's actually inside her). She looks up at him, eyes lidded, thin rims of blue circling her blown pupils, her lips kissed red and wet, and—

_Shit._

He picks her up then, her legs wrapping around him, and he turns to press her back against the cool lockers. He's remarkably thankful they're both so strong; she can grip him with her legs and arms around his neck, and he can hold her with one arm while his other hand slips into her underwear. She's so wet, he doesn't hesitate to slide two fingers into her before slowly pulling out and establishing a slow rhythm, his mouth kissing at her neck when her head falls back against the lockers with a loud moan. Her hand moves to grip his hair, fingers tangling in his damp locks.

Her breath hitches when he moves his fingers away from her core and rubs against her instead, her grip on his hair tightening. She reaches between him then, takes his length in one hand while she pulls aside her underwear with the other, and he uses her guidance to slide into her, his breath releasing in a rush from his chest. Everything stills for a moment as he holds her against him, the sound of their heavy breaths filling the empty room (he won't admit it out loud, but his arms feel weak when she just barely rolls herself against him, and he knows he'll need to hold her with both hands to keep them from collapsing onto the tiled floor). Her blue eyes flutter open, before he kisses her softly, slowly easing himself into a steady rhythm.

He'd be lying if he said he didn't love this (_hell_, it feels amazing when he's with her) but that isn't the only thing he loves about these moments.

He loves being the only one to see her this way, loves being the one to draw out those expressions of love and desire, elicit those breathy gasps and weighted moans. He loves being this close to her, loves feeling the bond that's always existed between them become stronger.

In truth, he just loves _her_.

"I love you too, Mako." Her smile sneaks in between her gasps (he didn't realize he'd actually said that out loud) and the feeling that thrums though him with the soft kiss that follows her smile is light and sweet, a welcome contrast to the coil winding tighter and tighter in his body as they move closer and closer to climax. His pace quickens, and her free hand grips his shoulder tightly before she breaks away from their kiss, moaning his name when she comes around him, and he follows with a few more thrusts.

His arms and legs are shaking from the exertion and he lets his body fall forward slightly, sandwiching her between his chest and the lockers, before she makes a sound of protest ("You realize how much all that muscle weighs, right?") and he laughs, mumbling an apology as he pulls out of her, removes the condom, and ties it off before tossing it in the open waste basket near the door. They can't exactly cuddle like they would when they are in her bed, but he pulls her close to him, running his hands up and down her back as he leans against the lockers, their positions from earlier flipped. She settles her head against his chest, her own hands making small movements up and down his slowly cooling skin. He isn't sure how long they stand there, but it's nice, holding her to him like this.

"So?" He's the first to break the content quiet encompassing them.

"So what?"

"Did it live up to your fantasies?" She rolls her eyes at his smile and playfully slaps him on the arm when he laughs, but it doesn't stop her from sliding her hands to the back of his neck and pulling him down for a fervent kiss.

"It was better." The joking tone is gone from her voice, the gaze she lays on him heated and crackling, and he's unable to look away. She kisses him again and he feels the effect she has on him like a current running through his skin.

This time, he makes the suggestion.

"Do you want to take a shower?" The perfectly kissed "o" of her mouth stretches into a smile, and for the second time that night he lets himself follow her as she pulls him in the direction of the open showers.

**...**

They make it back to her house eventually, when the sky is an inky black and the once warm night air is bordering on uncomfortably cool.

She hangs her medal beside the one from last year, and they climb into bed, exhausted from the excitement of the day and their earlier activities. His arm loosely holds her to him and he's just about to fall asleep when she turns over, his eyes forced open by her movements, and speaks.

"Mako?"

"Hm?"

"I… I appreciate you being here for me. That's all. "

He wants tells her again how much he loves her, how amazing he thinks she is, because she's his best friend, his girlfriend, his lover, and so much more to him than those silly, simple labels could ever convey, when her eyes meet his and—

He can't bring himself to say anything, doesn't have to say anything. With them, some things can be left unsaid yet still heard, clear as day.

"Of course." He kisses her forehead, before she turns over again and presses her back to his chest.

"Goodnight, Mako."

_I love you._

"Night, Korra."

_I love you too._


End file.
